


Psalm 137:1

by nothanksweregood (foreverkneeld)



Series: straight for your heart (wolfpack au) [7]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, thats...........just all it is is h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 13:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverkneeld/pseuds/nothanksweregood
Summary: By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.





	Psalm 137:1

**Author's Note:**

> thank you SO much to the mods of nouis fest for putting this together!
> 
> (technically part of my wolfpack series but can be read as a stand alone!)

“Hey.”

Niall looks up from where he’s curled up on a pile of pillows, Hob purring on his stomach and one of Liam’s throws around his shoulders. Louis’s stood in front of him, a mug of tea in each hand.

“Hey,” he manages, the single word feeling like it’s taking ten times more effort than it should.

“Brought you some tea,” Louis says, unnecessarily. “Mind if I come in?”

“Um.” Niall does, a bit. The floor of his closet, filled with slowly acquired blankets and pillows and the occasional cat or dog, has been his safe space ever since his first panic attack, right after they’d moved in, and illogically he’d felt like there was too much air for him to breathe. He’d crawled all the way into the back of the closet, pressing his head back against the cool wood of the walls and digging his fingers into the worn carpet, and by degrees had begun to feel safe again.

Louis must see some of this, because he just nods, backing off and setting one mug on the dresser. “Just there if you want it. Is this a - do you need alone time, or together no talking time, or cheering up, or -”

Niall flinches at the idea of having to sit and take someone cheering him up - the cajollery of someone trying to get him to smile more for their own benefit than his and the trapped-butterfly feeling of having to drag himself up to some standard of okay before he can be alone again and let his mind go blissfully numb.

“Right, not that one, okay, got it.” Louis rubs at his chin with his free hand, the rasping sound of his callouses against his stubble familiar and comforting. “Alone time?”

Niall manages a nod, feeling awful about it - Louis has done so much for him and he’s clearly longing to be helpful and here’s Niall fairly kicking him out in return for his pains. 

“Hey,” Louis crouches, touches Niall’s knee gently. “You’re good, babe. I’m not hurt or offended or any of that, all right? Take as much time as you need, sweetheart.”

When Louis is gone Niall forces his shoulders to go down, consciously drawing in a deep breath and letting it out and picturing his leftover panic going with it. He’s here, he’s fine, he just needs to keep breathing for the next breath, and then the next, and the next, and - he’s got a cat and a soft blanket and tea his alpha made for him and he’s going to be okay. 

It’s close to dark when he feels he can leave his closet and come down the stairs again, blanket still securely around his shoulders. Louis looks up from the couch where he’s watching Bakeoff, Zayn asleep on one side of him. Niall pads over, curling up against Louis’ other side, relieved when Louis’ arm drops over him. 

“Two of my favourite boys,” Louis says, and Niall can hear the smile in his voice. “How you doing, lovely?”

“Okay.” Niall see-saws his hand. “Y’know, just. Drained.”

“I bet.” Louis tips sideways as much as he can without dislodging Zayn and kisses Niall’s temple. “Anything I can do?”

“This is good.” Niall takes another deep breath, making himself let go of the knowledge that his hands are still shaky and his eyes are crusty from crying and just relax into Louis’ warmth and the familiar sound of Mel and Sue bickering over who gets to lick the mixing bowl. “Harry out?”

“Over at Grimmy’s.” 

There’s the familiar grimace Louis gets whenever Nick’s brought up, half disgust and half bewildered attraction, and Niall huffs a laugh.

“Oi, young Niall, no laughing at your elders.”

“No, I never would,” Niall agrees, ducking his head to hide his smile against Louis’ shoulder.

“You’re doing it right now!”

Zayn stirs on Louis’ other side and he freezes guiltily, looking relieved when Zayn settles again without waking. 

“Do you think it’s just - going to be like this forever?” Niall asks, sudden, and then just as quickly, “Never mind, that was - forget I said that. Dumb.”

“It’s not a bit dumb.” Louis turns to look at him, eyes very blue in the light from the telly, and the warm regard in them is so clear that Niall feels himself flushing hot.

Louis asks, “Do you mean the panic attacks going on forever? Or something else I missed?”

“No. I mean, yes, the panic attacks, and - just. The constant feeling like shit, y’know? The - all the crap that leads up to one and then the attack and then - after, you just feel so - all I did today was sit in my closet and leak and it just fuckin’ wiped me out. I can’t even do nothing without getting tired. How am I ever gonna have a job or - have a normal relationship. Half way through a convo I’ve gotta excuse myself to go have a fucking meltdown in the loo. I just -” He’s crying again, he can feel the tears dripping onto his blanket and he swipes angrily at his eyes. “I hate this. I hate it. How do you not - how are you so nice to me about it?”

“Nialler.” Louis’ voice is soft. “Niall, can I touch? Is that okay?”

One  _ more _ evidence of how fucked up he is, that he has to have check ins like this, Niall thinks furiously, but he nods and feels Louis’ hands settle warmly on his shins. He opens his eyes to see Louis knelt in front of him, Zayn laying on the other end now, still asleep. 

“It’s going to get better, Niall.” Louis pauses, thumbs moving slowly on Niall’s shins, the sensation of his leg hair rubbing the wrong way oddly grounding. “Nialler, you’ve - this year’s been a lot, yeah? It wasn’t even nine months ago we didn’t even - I didn’t have you. I never thought I’d be blessed enough to have my own Nialler, and I know we’re not normal, but I’m okay with that. Fuck normal, honestly. We’re making our own relationships here, and I wouldn’t trade that for a factory job and a wife and eight kids any day.”

Despite himself, Niall can’t help but laugh. “Eight kids isn’t normal, Lou.”

“You shut your mouth, it’s perfectly run of the mill,” Louis sniffs, but he turns quickly serious again. “I’ve been - there’s a lad who does a video series about. PTSD, anxiety, depression, all that shit, and he really seems like he knows his stuff. Irish, too, you’d probably get along beautifully, but anyway. He says our bodies sort of. Shut down, when we’re not safe, so we can’t process anything, really. Too focused on staying alive. It’s been a long time since your body’s felt safe enough to start processing all this, lovey. Maybe it just has to get worse before you can get better, yeah?”

“The system sucks,” Niall grumbles, but he can feel a lightening in his chest. It feels like he can breathe for the first time in weeks, shoulders loosening and the sting of tears in his eyes ones of relief and not frustration.

Louis huffs a laugh. “It kinda does. Fuck the system, am I right?”

“Yeah,” comes a sleepy voice from their left, and they both look over to see Zayn rubbing groggily at his eyes with one hand and the other in the air in a fist. “Down with the patriarchy. What’re we talking about?”

“You basically got it, babe.” Louis lets go of Niall’s shins with one last squeeze, bending over to give Zayn a kiss. “Just talkin’ about how crap life can be sometimes.”

“Fuckin’ awful,” Zayn agrees. “Let’s all just move to the arctic and raise penguins.”

“Second the motion,” Niall says instantly.

“Third it,” Louis says, and the conversation devolves into an argument over whether or not thirding it counts as a viable vote or if it’s just there so little kids can feel like they’re included in group decisions.


End file.
